


Edel's Love

by PangurBan24601



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Episode Related, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PangurBan24601/pseuds/PangurBan24601
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wooden puppet defies her fate, rescues a knight, and guides the Prince and Princess out of darkness. This is a story from the heart. It follows the events of Episode 13 from Edel's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edel's Love

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for Edel, the fate-defying heroine of the mid-season finale. This beautiful character gets far less credit than she deserves. Please enjoy!

 

Edel found herself quite content to stand beside Drosselmeyer within the story machine and watch as the events within Kraehe’s dungeon progressed. Not happy, not sad, just content. Each character had their role to play in the story, whether they knew it or not, which left it perfectly predictable. Not boring, not exciting, simply predictable.

Edel had never felt emotions like happiness, sadness, boredom, or excitement. She didn’t need to. A puppet does as she is told. Now, her predictable role was complete, and she was simply there for Drosselmeyer’s use. She stood beside him quietly as they both watched the story unfold, Drosselmeyer making loud interjections from time to time at parts that amused or angered him.

Princess Kraehe, who loved Prince Mytho dearly, selfishly, and unconditionally, was lying beside her prince, whispering her words of love into his ear. Edel wondered what it was like to love and be loved. She decided that it must be a pleasant feeling for humans. But then again, she thought as she watched Kraehe shed a tear at the Prince’s apathy, perhaps love could be unpleasant as well.

Soon after, Princess Tutu and Fakir arrived at Swan Lake. Edel knew Princess Tutu to be the same person as the klutzy, but sincere Ahiru. She also knew that Ahiru was special. Of all the people and animals in this town, Ahiru was only one who made Edel feel anything.

Edel had never thought or cared to feel anything before. Being made of wood and paint made life very easy. No pain, no sadness, no discomfort. Yet, upon meeting Ahiru, Edel found herself suddenly, impossibly curious.

Curiosity is a strange emotion. It is not deep, like joy or sadness. It is more like a strange itch that wants to be scratched. But Edel’s curiosity could never be satisfied because the only things she was curious about were the emotions that she could not feel or understand. Why did Kraehe love the prince, who had never shown any sign of caring for her? Why did Ahiru insist that she wished to be friends with Kraehe, who had only shown her cruelty?

The easy answer to these questions was that these were simply their roles in the story. None of these characters had any will of their own- every emotion they felt or action they made belonged to Drosselmeyer, the author, first.

Momentarily satisfied by this answer, Edel allowed herself to continue to watch with content. Everything would play out according to the plan, nothing to look forward to and nothing to regret.

Words were exchanged between Kraehe, Ahiru, and Fakir, just like lines from a script. A bassoon solo from _Scheherazade_ played from Drosselmeyer’s phonograph as Kraehe taunted Princess Tutu. Tutu had no choice left but to declare her love for the Prince and vanish, just as the story said she would. She stepped forward to accept her fate, but Fakir, the Prince’s knight, suddenly stopped her, drawing his sword.

Drosselmeyer switched records, and the phonograph began blasting Wagner’s Prelude to Act III from _Lohengrin_ as Fakir leapt into action. Crows attacked Fakir from all sides, but he was impossibly light on his feet and easily cut them all down. Drosselmeyer was not worried. He gleefully began conducting, waving his arms wildly in the air when the French horns came in. He and Edel both knew how this would ultimately end: Fakir would die defending the prince, just like the knight in the original story.

Kraehe also saw this coming. She smiled confidently as the lake beneath Fakir’s feet sucked him down and then spat him back up. Completely defenseless, Fakir was attacked in mid-air by the remainder of the crows. He cried out as his body was slammed back into the water. Blood welled up from the center of the lake.

Princess Tutu screamed his name.

Edel wondered if this scene would make her sad if she could feel emotions. Ahiru, the extraordinary girl who seemed to have such a strange effect on Edel, was in anguish.

“Not yet!” Drosselmeyer suddenly exclaimed, removing the Wagner record and putting Tchaikovsky’s _Swan Lake_ in its place. “He’s not finished yet!”

Drosselmeyer was right; Fakir was climbing out of the lake right in front of Mytho. The injured knight raised his sword and cut the Prince’s sword in two, preventing him from damaging the heart shard of love that glistened before them.

Fakir whispered a plea for Tutu to look after Mytho, and then fell back into the lake, never to surface again.

“And thus the knight perishes!” Drosselmeyer cackled. “Wasn’t that just delightfully heart-wrenching?” He suddenly turned to Edel, glaring at her expectantly.

Edel looked back at him, confused and silent.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot, you don’t have a heart,” Drosselmeyer said, suddenly cheerful again. “You should thank me for that blessing! Feelings only get in the way and hold you back, my dear Edel.”

“Thank you,” Edel said, assuming that it was the correct response.

“Think nothing of it. And now for the best part! The poor little Princess Tutu shall declare her love and vanish!” Drosselmeyer stood up and eagerly stared at the screen.

Edel also looked at the screen, but suddenly saw a flash of red from the corner of her eye. A second screen on the story mechanism had popped up. Edel looked over at Drosselmeyer and saw that he was quite engaged in watching Princess Tutu. Satisfied that her master was decently distracted, Edel allowed her eyes to wander to this second screen, which had awakened her only feeling: curiosity.

The second screen showed Fakir, drenched and bleeding, but alive. The lake must have had an underground stream, which had deposited him at some other place in the cave. How had the knight survived? It was his role to perish. No character had ever strayed away from his role before!

Edel watched intently as Fakir attempted to pull himself from the water. After an agonizing minute of struggle, Fakir was on dry land. A single torch lit the wall beside him. Multiple paths now stood before him, all uphill and all leading straight into pitch-blackness. Fakir lay there a long time, gasping for air as his blood reddened the ground.

Edel decided that this must be where he died. She almost wanted to be sad, but couldn’t. She simply wasn’t capable.

A sudden cry from Drosselmeyer pulled Edel’s attention back to the other screen.

 “What does she think she’s doing?! Tutu is supposed to declare her love and vanish, not dance! She’s ruining my story!” the storyteller angrily yelled.

Edel watched the clumsy Ahiru dancing like a seasoned prima ballerina. She knew that art in all of its forms was just a way of communicating with others on an emotional level. But she had never understood anything that art said until this moment.

“She’s saying ‘I love you,’” Edel whispered.

“No she’s not, she’s dancing a _pas de deux_ by herself. Idiot duck! Everyone knows a _pas de deux_ is impossible to perform without a partner!” Drosselmeyer said.

And right at that moment, Princess Tutu performed a lift. She sprang into the air and held perfectly still for an entire second before crashing back down onto the lake’s surface.

“You see? Impossible! The sooner she vanishes, the sooner we can get on with the story.” Drosselmeyer sat back down in his rocking chair.

“She won’t vanish,” Edel said. “She doesn’t need to. The Prince knows she loves him. He can see it in her dance.”

Drosselmeyer looked over at her, shocked. “My dear Edel, you don’t even know what love is!” His eye suddenly caught the second screen, which still showed the struggling knight. “Oh dear. Nothing seems to be going right in my story! Why can’t my characters stick to their roles?!”

Drosselmeyer got up and began pacing. “This is bad. This is very, very bad…What shall I do, what shall I do?” He stopped and pointed a finger at Edel. “You! Yes, you will do just fine! I hate to directly interfere with the story, but they have left me no choice! You must go and finish off that foolish knight!” Drosselmeyer pulled an axe from seemingly nowhere and placed it into Edel’s wooden hands. “Now go, my little marionette!” Drosselmeyer tossed Edel from the story machine back into the story.

Edel immediately felt Drosselmeyer using the control bar to tug on her strings, leading her to where the scene was taking place. She dutifully followed the commands, wandering deep down into the dark cavern. Before long, she came upon the wounded knight, still lying by the water’s edge.

She felt the tug of the strings raise her arms, preparing the axe to strike.

_It would make poor Ahiru very sad to see me kill her friend,_ Edel thought. And with that thought, Edel realized that she had a choice.

Edel turned the direction of the axe and sliced straight through all her strings. She had followed Tutu’s and Fakir’s example. She had defied her fate.

Edel collapsed to the ground, unused to carrying the weight of her own body. She stood shakily and took a few awkward steps, getting used to standing on her own. She went and sat down beside Fakir. He was breathing, but not doing well. He would die if he was left alone down there.

Then Edel got an idea. She knew she couldn’t feel emotions, but she certainly could _pretend_ to feel them. Surely if her feelings were guiding her, she would want to save this poor knight for Princess Tutu’s sake? She had seen humans acting upon feelings before. This was something they would do. And who knows? Maybe pretend emotions could become real ones with practice.

Determined, Edel reached down and pulled Fakir’s left arm around her shoulders, lifting him to his feet. The knight cried out in pain, but Edel forgot to pretend she cared.

“Come along, we are going to leave this place,” Edel said. She started carefully walking up the incline. Fakir’s feet gradually found the ground, and he walked with her, slowly and painfully.

The journey felt like hours, and Edel wondered what had become of the prince and his two princesses. Had Ahiru vanished anyway? Would Fakir die after all, leaving the story the way it should have been? Then the only one who truly defied the story would be Edel. She had cut her strings. There was no going back on that.

The exit to the cave was in sight when Fakir faltered.

“I don’t think I can go on,” he said, already on his knees.

“We’re almost out of the cave,” Edel said.

“I need to rest, just for a moment. Please,” Fakir said, very softly.

Edel let Fakir fall to the ground, again forgetting to be gentle.

Fakir gasped as he landed heavily. He remained still for several moments, breathing deeply.

“Why are you helping me?” Fakir asked, once he had found the strength to speak. “I’m the knight from the story. Drosselmeyer wants me dead.”

“Drosselmeyer is not my master anymore,” Edel said. “I cut my strings.”

“You’re helping me of your own free will?” Fakir asked, astonished.

Edel nodded. “I am helping you because I want to know what it feels like to help someone.”

Fakir looked up at her, pity in his eyes. “You can’t know that, Edel. It’s…beyond your reach.”

“That may be so,” Edel said, thoughtfully. “In that case, could you perhaps tell me what it is like to feel? It is what I want to know more than anything.”

Fakir struggled to sit up.

“Our feelings help us decide our actions,” he explained in a voice weakened by pain and fatigue. “I knew fighting the crows could get me killed, but I fought them anyway because I love Mytho and Ahiru. I wanted to protect them. Love is what makes us willing to die for our friends. Ahiru and I want to return Mytho’s heart to him because he deserves to be able to love again.”

“Is love the greatest emotion, then?”

“I do believe that it is the strongest. And love is not always a good feeling. I wish I didn’t love my parents. Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much to know that they are gone because of me.”

Edel suddenly noticed that Fakir was crying. Thinking of his parents must have made him sad, she decided. She was surprised when he spoke again.

“But don’t go telling that silly Duck about all that. She’s already caused me a lifetime’s worth of embarrassment.” He was smiling, but the tears continue to spill from his eyes. “I think I’m ready to go on now,” he finally whispered.

Edel lifted Fakir back up, more carefully this time. They headed slowly toward the growing light source up ahead.

They reached the outside of the cave, which opened into the center of town, just in time. Edel was just barely able to lower Fakir to the ground before she collapsed herself. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to walk on her own with no strings. Her legs were very weak, and that uphill climb out of the cave had completely drained what little strength she had.

As she sat beside Fakir in the glow of a single torch on a house nearby, Edel became aware that nothing had changed. She had saved the knight and led him out of the darkness, but she still felt nothing. She wasn’t glad that he had survived. She didn’t care that he was still in pain. Edel’s plan to discover emotion had failed, leaving her stuck with the one aggravating feeling of curiosity. Perhaps she would never learn what it felt like to be human.

“Edel…”

Edel looked down at Fakir.

“Yes?”

“Thanks for getting me out of there. That was very kind of you,” Fakir said.

Kind? Edel had never meant to be kind. Sure, she was imitating what a kind person would do, but it was not the same thing. Was it?

“You’re welcome.”

Fakir lay on his side, arms wrapped around his shoulders, hugging himself. Edel suddenly realized that he had been trembling the entire time. His hair and clothes were still soaking wet from his dip into Swan Lake, and it was a chilly evening in early winter. His clothes, which had looked black in the darkness of the cave, glowed red in the firelight. He was in bad condition.

“I hope Mytho and Tutu can find their way out,” Fakir whispered, weakly.

“You’re cold,” Edel stated.

Fakir nodded, teeth chattering.

“You’re dying.”

Fakir nodded again, closing his eyes tightly against the pain.

Edel looked down at the axe she had dragged along beside her the whole way out of the cave. There was only one thing left to try. She stood, shakily, and limped over to the house, where she retrieved the burning torch. She hobbled back over to Fakir and sat beside him, dropping the torch onto the cobblestone road. Then she raised the axe over one exhausted, useless leg and brought it down in one swift motion.

Edel hadn’t expected pain. She didn’t have time to stifle the scream that erupted from her throat. It was like a floodgate had been opened. The pain was certainly the strongest, but there were so many other flavors that Edel felt herself tasting all at once. She was worried about Fakir, who needed warmth or he was going to die. She felt resentment toward Drosselmeyer for using her to do his sinister work. She felt affection toward Ahiru, that sweet, earnest little girl who loved everyone she met.

She smiled as the tears came.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Fakir gasped out.

“It hurts,” Edel said, in wonder. “I can feel…everything!” Tears were streaming down her face. She raised the axe again over her other leg and brought it down. She didn’t scream this time.

“Stop it!” Fakir tried to yell, but was too weak. “You’ll die!”

“It’s all right. I am fine with dying,” Edel said. “Your life, Princess Tutu’s life, and Mytho’s life are far more important than mine. I am only a puppet.” She removed her left arm with another swift chop.

“Edel, please, stop this! Charon can repair you. You don’t have to die!”

Edel began chopping off bits of her wooden dress, creating a decent pile of firewood all around her. Finally, she dropped the axe and picked up the torch with her remaining hand.

“Don’t do it!” Fakir cried, crawling closer to her.

Edel smiled at Fakir. “I’m doing this because I love you. You, Ahiru, and Mytho. You are…my friends.” Her face fell. “I wish there was another way. But you need to survive, and Ahiru and Mytho need a guide. Thank you for helping me understand. I would never have felt if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, Edel. It wasn’t me. You are the one who discovered it for yourself, not me. You can’t die now, you’ve only just started to live!” Fakir yelled. He had begun to cry again.

“You said yourself that love is what makes you willing to die for your friends. You meant it then, and it’s still true now. I _want_ to die for you, Fakir. Please…just let me love you.”

“Oh, Edel…” Fakir breathed, defeated. “You are far nobler than any human I have met.”

“It makes me glad to hear that,” Edel said. She raised the torch and lowered it onto the kindling before her.

“Does it hurt?” Fakir whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Not anymore. I It’s wonderful, Fakir, more beautiful that I had ever imagined.”

The flames grew quickly. Soon, Edel’s body was completely consumed in the fire. Fakir felt the flames warming his abused body. His wounds closed and his clothing dried. With one last glance at Edel’s smiling face, Fakir lost consciousness.

He awoke to see Ahiru and Mytho leaning over him.

“Thank goodness,” Ahiru said. Fakir smiled, relieved to see that Ahiru had rescued Mytho.

“How did you make it out?” Ahiru asked. Fakir carefully sat up. He pointed reverently into the flames. Edel’s spirit appeared before them one last time. Ahiru gasped as the realization hit her. Edel had sacrificed herself for all of them.

“Never mind me, Princess Tutu. I have no regrets,” Edel said, smiling. “I want to see you and the Prince dance before the end. Please, dance a _pas de deux_ for me. I want to see you expressing your love one last time.”

Princess Tutu’s tears came and did not stop. Nevertheless, she bravely nodded and stood, taking the Prince’s hand in hers. She danced and wept until the flames were reduced to embers and Edel’s noble spirit had moved on. The puppet who had loved deeper than most humans ever will was gone, but not forgotten.


End file.
